


The Origin of Clarity

by basilique



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Gaslighting, Gen, Origin Story, The origin story of Clarity, an OC I created with some friends, trigger/content warning for gaslighting and other emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilique/pseuds/basilique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kitchen smelled like the orange windex she had used on the countertops this morning, and felt warm with the early autumn breeze that blew in from the screen-porch balcony. It was a pleasant evening, and a nice apartment.</p><p>Sofia, however, had never been so unhappy. </p><p>She reached up and put her hands over her face. There was no one there to see her silent scream of frustration, but she hid it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Origin of Clarity

Sofia screwed her eyes shut. 

Her knees gave out underneath her and fell, hard, on the kitchen floor. 

Justin’s footsteps receded down the hallway. He was walking quickly. 

_He could not wait to get away from her_. 

The kitchen smelled like the orange windex she had used on the countertops this morning, and felt warm with the early autumn breeze that blew in from the screen-porch balcony. It was a pleasant evening, and a nice apartment. 

Sofia, however, had never been so unhappy. 

She reached up and put her hands over her face. There was no one there to see her silent scream of frustration, but she hid it anyway. 

She had driven Justin away again. All he wanted was to help her sort through her problems. He wanted to give her the kind of support that she had longed for all her life. _And in return_? 

_All she could do was hurt and disappoint him_. 

Her throat burned with suppressed tears. 

She swallowed, and took a gasp of air. She would not cry. Not again. She would get up, and prepare her apology. When Justin came back, she would have an explanation for him, another weak and pathetic excuse for her inadequacy. And he would forgive her, like he always did. 

He was so kind. She did not deserve someone who was so patient with her. 

Footsteps in the hall again: he was coming back. She had expected him to be out for at least a few hours, clearing his head from their fight. He had taken to doing that lately, as their fights got worse and worse. 

She put her hands on the floor and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed on the spot, wiping her eyes and catching her breath before the doorknob twisted and he stepped back in. 

She began immediately. 

“I’m sorry, Justin. It was a stupid fight to have. I know you care about me. I shouldn’t have said you didn’t.” 

He looked up at her, pain written clearly on his face, in his arched eyebrows and ice blue eyes. 

“I just came to get my keys. I just need some space, okay? Need to lick my wounds a little bit. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” 

“ _Tomorrow morning_?” Sofia’s eyes widened. In all their two years together, since they had moved into the apartment, they had never spent a night apart. 

The knot in her throat came back and her eyes pricked with tears. She blinked and tried to press them back, but Justin had already seen them, and he raised his hands in exasperation. His jaw was set in a way that she had never seen it before. He looked weary, worn out by too much frustration. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sof. I just need some time to myself after what you said. And you’re here, trying to stop me.” 

“No,” said Sofia quickly, the tears swelling in her eyes, “I’m not trying to stop you.” 

“Oh, come on.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty.” 

“No! I just—I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to go.” Her voice came out very soft, despicably pitiable, and she realized that he must be right. She _was_ manipulating him, had been without even realizing it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She hated herself for messing up, but she hated herself even more for apologizing again. She knew it wasn’t good enough, that he was tired of hearing it. 

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. You said I don’t care about you, and you have no idea how that hurts. I’ve cared so much about you. When your sister died, I was there for you. And maybe it wasn’t enough for you. But I’ve given you so much, and I think maybe you just…need more compassion than other people. Because no matter what I give you, it’s just never enough for you.” He took a gasp of air. He was getting angry again. Sofia’s stomach twisted with anxiety. “Do you just think one of your ex-boyfriends would have cared more?” His tone was becoming scathing. “Do you think _Oliver_ would have cared? Do you think Manuel would have cared _at all_? I’ve cared more than all of them put together. You put so much stock in your past relationships, but they meant nothing, Sofia. I’m the only real, adult relationship you’ve ever had.” 

Sofia couldn't remember how this conversation had started. But she wanted it to end. Justin’s words stung, and more than that they seemed to suck all the words from the air around her, making it impossible to speak. She started to cry harder, and raised her hands to her face. Her head hurt and her stomach felt empty and miserable. Nothing made any sense at all and she was utterly alone in her insane, untrustworthy mind. Justin was still talking. “It hurts me to see the way your family is suffering, Sofia. You’re just sticking your head in the sand, like it didn’t even happen. You didn’t even go to the wake because you said you couldn’t stand to look at her body. But your mother is in so much pain, and it hurts me to see that, Sofia, it hurts _me_. You should be taking care of your mother, but instead you’re just blocking it all out and refusing to deal with reality. It’s been months. Half a year. You have no reason to be feel so upset anymore, you haven’t earned the right to it. And because you can’t face reality, you’re hurting other people. Me. Your mom. Your dad. I just…I can’t take this anymore. _I don’t have to take this_.” 

Sofia was completely paralyzed, thick tears sliding down her cheeks. “Stop,” she gasped, and the word took a world of effort. “Just…stop, _please _.”__

 _ _He shook his head wearily, disdainfully one last time, then said, “see, this is the problem, Sofia. You don’t communicate. Every time I try to tell you something honestly you don’t wanna talk about it. Or you twist it to make it seem like I’m the bad guy. Do you want me to tell you what Nieves looked like, Sofia? Is that what you really want? Do you want to hear what position they laid her in, what they did to the body to dress it up? _Do you want me to tell you_?” He almost snarled the last words, and she cried out quickly, raising her hands between them. __

__

“No! No, I don’t! _Please_ , don’t!” 

He considered for a moment, as though deciding whether or not to tell her anyway, to hurl the words at her like stones. “Do you think I’m a _bad boyfriend_ , Sofia?” he said instead, sneering. His eyes were dull and empty with malice. “Do you think I’m _mean_ to you? Just because you can’t handle the truth doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with _me_. Why don’t you just consider that, just think about it for five minutes of your life? Because if you can't get your head around that, Sofia, I don't know if we have anything left to offer each other.” He gripped the doorknob hard and stepped out into the hallway. 

He shut the door, not slamming it, just closing it firmly, so that the bolt made an authoritative click. 

It was a few moments before Sofia managed to move. She swayed on the spot and it took effort to breathe, to blink, to swallow. Her heart was beating frantically, like she had been chased by a bear. She could not think clearly, wasn't even sure what had just happened. As she tried to replay the conversation in her mind, it slipped away like a dream, like water between her fingers. 

She had to get out of this kitchen. She could not stay here with whatever had just happened. She grabbed her own keys and ran down the stairs of the apartment building, got onto her bike, rode. There were tears rolling down her cheeks and she could barely keep the bike going in a straight line as she road, with cars speeding past in a blur. 

Without knowing quite how she had gotten there, she was riding into the Elm Street Cemetery, leaving her bike against the rack. She was running to Nieves' grave. 

She had knelt there a hundred times over the past six months, her knees in the thick moss and her fingers clutching at the flat, white stone that lay on the ground. The sight of the stone was so familiar that she could mark the differences as the grass began to grow up around it. 

But this time, Sofia stopped, and her eyes widened, because there was something very different, which she could see from a great distance. About two hundred yards away across the forest of graves, a figure stood... no, _hovered_. His skin was dark red, and he wore a silver body suit and cape. She had seen him before, seen him on TV. He was _Vision_ , the Avenger who had helped to save the world from Ultron, and he was floating directly over Nieves' grave. What was more, he was looking directly at Sofia, his face kind and serene as a mountain spring. He smiled a little, and reached out a hand.

__


End file.
